The Real Blackfire Island

A tall, handsome figure wandered around the volcanic wasteland hours after the Parliament's force retreated to England.

He looked far and wide for any traces of the only woman who he cared about in this entire world. Alas, he failed to find any.

He could not even locate the spot where she was last seen alive. Everything above the ground had been flattened and buried under a thick rocky surface, courtesy of two volcano eruptions that Mark Parsons engineered.

Izabella Hornthorpe had truly vanished from the surface of the world.

Such a depraved existence it was to be a vampire, that once one departed, nothing was left behind to be mourned.

Gregory Hornthorpe took a handful of ash in his hand and let it slowly run out of his fist.

"Iza, did it hurt?" He wondered in his heart as he watched the ash trickle back to the ground.

"Did you feel a lot of pain when you died?"

"Are you in a better place now?"

"Are you cuddling your sweet baby in your arms at last?"